♾️ Inner Alchemy Healing

One-on-one support for individuals facing health challenges addressing the emotional, spiritual & mental dimensions of your journey

Drawing from my lived experience with disease & disorder, I offer you empathetic and personalized support

Through tailored meditation, restorative postures, Reiki and additional embodiment techniques, I guide individuals on a transformative journey, fostering relaxation, resilience and holistic sense of well being

Your body is wise beyond comprehension. I am here for you 🤍

I Will Never Be Cured: A Story of Hope

Photo by Emma Simpson on Unsplash

“The most terrifying thing is to accept oneself completely” - Carl Jung

Awhile back, I was asked to be a panelist at an event on the emotional impact of chronic illness, specifically Inflammatory Bowel Disease. After myself and my fellow panelists answered a few questions, it was time for the main event. A featured keynote speech was given by a man who had done some incredible feat while living with Crohn’s disease. It was clear he had given this speech before, and it certainly was inspirational. Cue Rocky Music as he explained how he had successfully climbed a mountain, or completed a triathalon - to be honest I do not recall what feat he accomplished, because it did not seem like anything I would ever be able to do. Despite his best intentions, and the importance of his message: yes, those of us with chronic illness can succeed, there was something that deeply troubled me about this presentation.

My suspicions of the potential harm these types of motivational speeches can do was confirmed when a middle aged lady timidly raised her hand with a question. She asked the same question I was thinking, and her words were both earnest and profound: “I have Crohn’s too, but I will never be able to accomplish this type of athletic feat. I struggle greatly with my illness and it limits my life in many ways. Am I only supposed to view myself as a success story if I am able to achieve something like you are describing?”

It was clear that this seasoned motivational speaker was not expecting this type of question, and stumbled for words. In that moment, I related much more to the woman in the audience than the man I was sharing the stage with. I had no heroic story to tell, just my own experience of physical and mental challenges that continue to afflict me on an ongoing basis.

Maybe I was a fraud and should get off the stage. I was sure that was no success story.

🜃

I went to the forest to cure myself. At that point, I was working as a yoga teacher and wellness coach, and had just started a podcast on re-integrating and re-humanizing the healthcare system. I was writing, and publicly speaking about my journey with wellness. But deep down I felt like an imposter, a fraud and a failure. Because I was not cured. Far from it. The medical trauma that I had experienced as a child with cancer still lingered and left its shadow in every realm of my life: from body image and relationships to my professional life and mental health. This trauma was severely compounded by a diagnosis of IBD at 17 years old, followed by years of intense pain and despair as I struggled to find relief. I still experienced lingering physical symptoms that could debilitate me in pain and keep me so fatigued. would teach a yoga class in the middle of the day, and then be so exhausted afterwards that I would have to lie down for several hours to recover. I kept this a secret: I figured if anyone knew, they would stop coming to my classes. During one of these classes, a student and new friend told me that I was the most energetic person that he had ever met. The gulf between who he saw and who I felt myself to be was so vast that I could hardly bear it. I believed myself to be a sick imposter posing as a happy and healthy woman and it was becoming increasingly excruciating. I was still the sick girl I believed myself to be, despite the smiling veneer I presented to the world. My symptoms were still with me, so what could I possibly say or provide of value to others?

I could not bear this feeling any longer. I suddenly left my life behind and ventured to the forest so I could cure myself once and for all to become the person I believed everyone thought I was. The only acceptable version of myself I could imagine was the eternally happy, healthy and energetic yoga teacher and wellness coach who could climb Mount Everest and perform a triathalon. Anything less could never do. So, once and for all, I had to cure myself. My life and worth as a human being depended on it.

🜄

It was at the halfway point of my retreat, 30 days in, that it became unavoidably clear to me that I was failing at the task of curing myself. I was still experiencing the frequent painful, embarrassing and uncomfortable symptoms of a colitis flare-up. This coveted cure I was desperately seeking was simply not going to happen.

I knocked frantically and loudly on my favourite retreat staff-members office hut door. He was eating lunch with his coworker, both of these men at least a foot and several hundred pounds larger than me. But they were afraid of me in that moment. I started yelling, and crying, hyperventilating, shaking. They looked at me with compassion and love in their eyes. I had been the girl with the smiling mask for thirty days living in this national forest. There was no mask left, it was just me completely coming undone in front of their eyes. I was holding nothing back, and all the medical trauma I experienced as a young girl and adolescent came flooding back. One of the men said to me: “why don’t you write a letter to doctors?”, which I did, but that is a story for another day. They were patient and kind and held space for me to lose myself in my grief.

Despite all the years of hope, of different treatments, of therapists, of naturopathic remedies, of drugs, of surgeries - it was all completely a waste. I was sick. I was incurable. I was a failure.

I stormed out of their hut when it was clear that there was nothing left to say. I ran to the horses who were minding their own business in a far tucked away corner of the forest. I sat on a patch of grass as far away as I could manage to continue my breakdown. I don’t know how long I sat their drowning in my tears as this elusive cure from chronic illness faded in the distance. It felt like years, it felt like mere moments. Time had lost all sense of meaning, for my life as I knew it felt like it had ended. There was no hope left for me.

All of a sudden, I looked up and Mille the mule was staring back at me. Millie didn’t quite fit in with the other horses; she was smaller, and she was sick. Her eyes were runny and red and she was feeble, not as strong and capable as her horse-mates. She was staring at me defiantly, as if she could read my mind and was posing a question to me: “Yes, I am sick. Yes, I am smaller than the others. But am I a failure to you?”

I touched Millie’s face gently through the fence. No, Millie, I thought. Millie: you are beautiful, you are alive, you deserve to be here. You are sick, but you are not a failure.

She telepathically replied to me: Well then, so are you. So do you.

And we just stood like that, together - me and Millie for what felt like hours and what felt like mere moments. She would not leave my side, and a profound shift took place within me that day, in those moments with Millie. We were there together, and we accepted each other exactly as we were. And that was enough.

🜁

I cannot erase my past, or the ways in which physical and mental health issues have shaped my life up to the present day.

I will never be cured. But I say that now with a sigh of relief, rather than resignation.

Because, I am no longer fragmented.

These are all parts of me:

The woman with chronic illness

The yoga teacher and wellness coach

The lover

The fighter

The advocate

The girl who is so incredibly sensitive, and whose sensitivity is most acutely felt in her tummy

The woman who must take naps in the middle of the work day

The most frightened little girl you could ever imagine

The strongest woman you will ever encounter

All parts are welcome, all are included, all make up who I am.

I will never be cured, but I am a living and breathing human being who feels both love and loss

I am here, and that is enough.

🜂

Chronic Illness and Mental Health: Breaking the Vicious Cycle

When we face a chronic illness, it does not just affect the specific body part in isolation.

Oftentimes, we face a myriad of physical, mental, emotional and social challenges, and our Western healthcare system lacks the resources to guide us through this challenging time.

This is why it is so important for us to educate ourselves and learn how to break the vicious cycle, feeling empowered in our own care.

In this presentation, I outline my personal story and share tools and resources to help you navigate your way to health and wellness.

Thank you for listening, and I would love to hear from you!

Moving Beyond the Patient Identity: My Journey with Chronic & Mental Health Challenges

I had the opportunity recently to speak with medical professionals across Canada about what it is like to live with a chronic illness, specifically Inflammatory Bowel Disease. I began facing serious health crises when I was a young child, and they continued in different forms throughout my teens and twenties. Throughout this time, I have greatly struggled not only with painful symptoms and sometimes even more painful treatments - but also the emotional, mental and spiritual toll of living as a patient.

I am on an ongoing journey to heal these wounds and grow out of my former identity as a passive victim of circumstances. Here is my message for healthcare providers and patients alike, to become allies and empowered in our own care.

Resilience and Self-Advocacy for Patients with Chronic Illness

This is a presentation I gave at Mount Sinai Hospital in Toronto at an educational event which provides peer support for individuals with Crohn's disease and ulcerative colitis.

I speak about the emotional dimensions of chronic illness, and IBD in particular, which are often overlooked when medical care is considered and can greatly interfere with our inner resilience. After delving into the psychological issues often faced by patients, I provide tools and techniques to increase resilience in the face of these obstacles. I then go on to give some tips that have helped me advocate for myself and other patients within the healthcare system.

 

What Every Patient Needs to Know ~ The Emotional Impact of Chronic Illness

A panel discussion with myself and fellow chronic illness advocates Rasheed Clarke and Jenna Rines.

In this clip I answer the following questions:

- Were mental health challenges something that you dealt with before you were diagnosed with inflammatory bowel disease, or did they come with the onset of your symptoms?

- When did you notice that your mental health was taking a hit?

 

In this clip, Rasheed, Jenna and I discuss what can be done when someone with a mental health issue is not being taken seriously by the healthcare system and the importance of patient self-advocacy.

 

In this clip, Rasheed, Jenna and I discuss the mind body connection and how it relates to living with inflammatory bowel disease. We speak about the difficulty of separating the emotional and physical impacts of chronic illness, barriers in communication with medical professionals and how to practice self care in the midst of the 'vicious cycle' of illness.

 

In this clip, Rasheed, Jenna and I discuss the immense difficulties chronic and mental health patients face when trying to speak out about their experiences. We talk about how stigma, shame, guilt and isolation keeps patients silent. We then discuss how caregivers and medical professionals can best support us, and the importance of active listening.

 

In this clip, Rasheed, Jenna and I discuss the best ways for caregivers and medical professionals to lend support to those suffering from chronic and mental health challenges, the benefits of active listening skills and the value of patient advocates. We also speak about the overlooked vital role of the caregiver, and why it is so important for caregivers to seek support.

The Quality of Life

The Diagnosis

The month leading up to my diagnosis of ulcerative colitis was not pretty. I was seventeen years old and had just returned home from visiting my grandparents in Florida over the Christmas holiday. I began experiencing intense abdominal cramping that became increasingly painful. I found myself running to the washroom more and more times each day. I was quickly losing energy. I couldn’t seem to find the strength to get out of bed, and the only other place I would frequent was the washroom. I began just staying in the washroom, since it became too difficult to travel back and forth from my bed. I tried to tell myself and everyone around me that I was fine, but I could no longer deny that something was seriously wrong. When I saw blood in my stool, that was the last straw, and I went to the hospital emergency room. 

When I finally received the diagnosis, I was relieved. I did not care what was causing my symptoms, I just needed them to end. The medical professionals discovered that the lining of my colon was inflamed and ulcerated. I was treated with a high dose of intravenous steroids, which quickly worked to repair the damage. I could finally breathe again. As I began to feel better, it was as though I was waking up after a natural disaster that had shaken me to my core. I had to assess the damage and understand this new world around me that was fundamentally different than the one I inhabited just a few weeks earlier. 

I now had a chronic illness. 

An insidious invisible disease that has no cure. I was given medication and told to take it each day, from now on. If only it had been that easy. I did not know what this diagnosis meant for me or my life. I was hungry for knowledge. I wanted to learn everything I could about inflammatory bowel disease and what was in store for me. I did not receive any answers to my questions. My fear and hopelessness quickly increased. 

That was how I found myself reading a medical pamphlet in the doctor’s office waiting room that stated that although one’s quantity of life is not affected by inflammatory bowel disease, the quality of a person’s life is decreased by this disease. Reading that statement honesty broke me. I don’t know how else to describe it. I could not stop thinking about it. I had been desperate for information about how my life would be affected by ulcerative colitis, and what I had learned was that it would be worse. 

There was no reassurance offered. No comfort or support during this dark time. Just the cold hard facts - my life as I knew it had come to an end.

Healthcare increases suffering when the ‘care’ is left out. 

Medical professionals in the modern western world are well equipped for the biomedical aspects of care, but the challenges of understanding and responding appropriately to the psychological, social and cultural dimensions of illness and health need to be addressed. Healthcare increases suffering when the emotional impacts of illness and disease are ignored. Healthcare increases suffering when the way that a patient receives devastating news is not considered important. Our bodies and minds are not separate, so why does our medical system treat us as though they are? 

Human beings can endure unimaginable hardship. But we need each other for support and guidance. We need to believe that others care about us and our welfare. We need to feel that there is hope in the darkness. That we are not alone. With this simple thing, we are unstoppable.